Amity Shlaes Tells The Story of Calvin Coolidge, Another "Forgotten Man"

In her award winning book, “The Forgotten Man,” Amity Shlaes offered a refreshing alternative to conventional wisdom about the Great Depression. Her forgotten man was not Roosevelt’s man at the “bottom of the economic pyramid” but William Graham Sumner’s forgotten man whose toils toward self improvement form the foundation of economic progress. He is the quiet innovator and adventurer who ultimately foots the bill for the Progressive social agenda. We now also recognize him as the man who President Obama famously discredited during last year’s re-election campaign.

In one sense, Shlaes new book “Coolidge” represents a prequel to “The Forgotten Man.” More importantly, however, we rediscover a man who throughout his career championed the cause of Sumner’s forgotten man but whose reward for doing so was to become himself a president whom history books have also largely “forgotten.” Shlaes sees Coolidge as “a rare kind of hero: a minimalist president, an economic general of budgeting and tax cuts.” She then thoroughly and persuasively documents that judgment.

In both books, Shlaes’ captivating portrayals of her forgotten men resonate. We come to identify with Coolidge because he embodied the timeless virtues of honesty and personal responsibility to which we all aspire. We also see Coolidge as wholly a product of his time. At the time of his birth –on Independence Day 1872 in a rural Vermont town — the Industrial Revolution had not yet transformed the U.S. economy from its agrarian roots. Some three fourths of the U.S. population in 1870 lived in a rural area and the 1880 Census showed that more than 60% of the rural population lived on farms. The experiences and life lessons that would form Coolidge’s character were those shared by most other Americans of the day. My own grandparents, born that same decade on farms in Ohio, embraced those same values and not surprisingly became Coolidge Republicans. While such voters could readily identify with Coolidge, they also admired and rewarded the leadership skills that conventional historians seem to have overlooked.

Life on America’s farms and in rural villages during the final three decades of the nineteenth century demanded self-discipline, sacrifice and perseverance. Shlaes notes that Coolidge himself saw “perseverance as the key” to success. Just as perseverance defined Coolidge’s work ethic, “parsimony” in both word and deed seems to have defined his life’s mission.

We also learn of the critical role that Amherst College played throughout Coolidge’s life. During his Amherst days, Coolidge blossomed from an awkward outsider into a respected orator and leader. Shlaes credits one of his Amherst mentors, Charles Garman, with instilling in Coolidge a reverence for the sanctity of “the individual, rather than the group,” the importance of property rights as “’exactly the doctrine of the state,’” and the obligation to serve others that the privilege of property imposes. Coolidge would draw on these lessons throughout his life. By the time he graduated in 1895, Coolidge himself believed that he had “gained the power of grappling with problems that will stand by me all my life.”

The importance of the Amherst experience is a recurring theme in Shlaes’ biography. The friendships he formed through these Amherst connections would become valued sources of counsel and support throughout his public life. Indeed, as President, Coolidge would appoint two college contemporaries to high office – Harlan Stone first as Attorney General, and later as Supreme Court Justice, and Dwight Morrow as Ambassador to Mexico.

As important as these close college-year friendships would be in his public life, Coolidge found in Grace Goodhue a stalwart and elegant partner to “pull him along” through the many public and private challenges life would throw at him. These would include the heart-wrenching loss of their youngest son during the year he sought re-election to the presidency he inherited upon President Harding’s death. Grace’s charm and sophistication would prove a perfect complement to “Silent Cal.”

Coolidge’s unwavering commitment to limited government shaped his response to numerous issues. One in particular vaulted Coolidge into the national political consciousness. As Massachusetts governor in 1919, Coolidge broke the strike by Boston policemen, solidifying an enduring precedent against strikes by public employees. In doing so, Coolidge also won national acclaim. His new reputation as a “law and order” governor helped him land a spot as Warren Harding’s running mate in 1920.

Coolidge never abandoned his skepticism of the effectiveness and propriety of government action that had guided his actions as president. Even in the wake of the stock market crash following his term in office, Coolidge persisted in his “considerable doubt” that the “national government can interpose” to prevent or ameliorate the crisis. He would doubtless see the Dodd-Frank Act of 2010 as another desperately flawed exercise in futility. In stark contrast to the principles that guided both the Bush and Obama administration’s response to our most recent economic crisis, Coolidge saw large government spending aimed at stimulating commerce as a “…temporary expedient which begs the question.” Philosophically Jeffersonian, Coolidge believed that local governments, businesses and individual citizens were better suited than federal agencies to foster wealth and prosperity.

It was an obsessive frugality, however, that really defines the modern perception of Coolidge. Attending to the minutest detail of federal spending, Coolidge and Budget Bureau Director General Herbert Mayhew Lord engineered budget surpluses every year of his presidency. Historians are predisposed to judge presidents by the boldness of actions taken and often ignore the possibility that inaction may sometimes be the more courageous path. Maintaining control over government spending required both diligent attention to detail and courageous resistance to the politically expedient expansion of the reach of government. Coolidge, for instance, resisted demands to expand government support for veterans because he recognized that the precedent could become boundless. The various entitlement programs that now jeopardize our long-run fiscal health would likely be less threatening had the generations of politicians since Coolidge heeded his style of budget discipline and vigilance.

But rigorous spending restraint alone does not account for Coolidge’s budgetary successes. Tax revenues grew rapidly after sharp cuts in marginal tax rates took full effect in 1925. That record would seem to validate the “scientific tax” theory promoted by Treasury Secretary Andrew Mellon. Mellon’s argument that lower marginal tax rates would generate more commerce and hence more tax receipts remains a cornerstone of contemporary conservatism.

In another refreshing correction of the historians’ oversights, Shlaes shows Coolidge to be a skilled politician who could artfully advance his agenda through seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Shlaes catalogues the maneuvering that led to Senate ratification of the Kellogg-Briand treaty. Though that treaty failed colossally in its goal of “outlawing war,” Coolidge’s support made it more difficult to pillory Republicans as the same isolationists who had blocked Wilson’s League of Nations.

Coolidge embraced the virtues of “public service” he learned at Amherst – not by using political power to compel others, but by fostering a sense of personal responsibility for the plight of others. With both their time and their wealth, Calvin and Grace generously supported the Clarke School for the Deaf in Northampton, Massachusetts, where Grace had taught when the couple first met.

In the introductory chapter, Amity Shlaes laments that “Our ignorance of Coolidge … diminishes our understanding of his era and our past.” This thoroughly entertaining and enlightening biography dissolves that ignorance and leaves the reader longing for elected officials whose dignity and character might match that of Calvin Coolidge.

David Resler recently retired from Nomura where he had served as Chief US Economist/Economic Adviser for more than 26 years. Dr. Resler continues to speak, write and consult on economic issues. He can be reached at dhresler@aol.com or via his website, TopDogEcon.com (still under development).

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